


Elevator Goin' Up on a Tuesday

by thundercaya



Series: The Elevator Incident [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Trapped In Elevator, this whole fic is an extended pee joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:26:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7075060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Madison and Hamilton discuss death, friendship, and bladder control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elevator Goin' Up on a Tuesday

"Hold the elevator, please!"

James Madison knew that voice. If there was a person alive who didn't know that voice, Madison envied them. He considered just letting the door close, but if the owner of the voice managed to slip in and Madison _hadn't_ held the door, he'd probably complain all the way up.  With a resigned sigh, Madison reached out an arm to stop the door and in walked Alexander Hamilton.

"Mr. Madison," Hamilton greeted. "Thank you."

Madison said nothing, instead letting out a noncommittal hum that was swallowed up by the rumble of the elevator as it started to move. A short ride. That's all it would be. No need to have a conversation. The next moment the elevator stopped with a jerk, the lights turning off as well. Madison and Hamilton both grabbed the handrails to steady themselves.

"What the fuck," Hamilton said, pulling out his phone and checking for a signal before turning on a flashlight app instead.

"Our tax dollars at work," Madison said.

Hamilton didn't respond, instead going for the control panel and hitting the call button. "Hello?" he said. Nothing. He gestured at Madison. "Try your phone."

Madison did so, but he already knew he'd have no signal. "Any more ideas?"

"There's probably someone waiting for the elevator right now," Hamilton said. "They'll notice if it never shows up."

"They'd better," Madison said. "I can't be stuck in here."

"Because you're with me?"

" _Yes_ , Secretary Hamilton," Madison sighed. "Because _everything_ is _always_ about _you_."

"What is it then?" Hamilton asked. "Don't tell me you're claustrophobic on top of everything else."

"'On top of everything else?'" Madison repeated. "Do you think I asked for any of it? Migraines? Sinus congestion? Do you think I walked up to God and said 'hey, the epileptic fits sound great, but can I also get leg pain for no reason?' 'Are you sure? I can give you leg pain _for_ a reason.' 'No, no reason is better, that way I can't _do_ anything about it!' No. Didn't ask for it. Didn't get a gift receipt either. Otherwise I'd trade in my heart palpitations for a working immune system and three more inches of height."

"Only three, huh?" Hamilton muttered.

"Then I'd be as tall as you."

"Touché. Are you _sure_ it's not me? Because you're being awfully snappy."

"I'm being snappy for the same reason I don't want to be here."

"Which _is_?" Hamilton insisted.

Madison groaned and wiped a hand down his face. "I need to pee."

"Oh," Hamilton said. "Well, that'll do it." He checked the call button again, then sat down on the ground. He placed his phone on the ground, light pointed up at the ceiling. "I'm actually surprised you didn't go before you got on."

"You think I use the restroom every time I'm about to get on an elevator on the off chance that it'll break down?"

"Sure, why not?" Hamilton shrugged. "It sounds like you."

It _did_ sound like him, dammit. What a time to _not_ be neurotic about something.

"Lots of people are paranoid about elevators," Hamilton went on. "For example, I always think they're gonna fall."

Madison glared at him. "Hamilton, I don't need to think about that right now."

"Relax," Hamilton dismissed.  "We didn't get up that high before we stopped. But any time I get in one I start thinking that's how I'm gonna die."

"I can tell you right now that the way you die is by pissing someone off until they snap and kill you. And me? I die of complications from a tear in my bladder, like Tycho Brahe."

"That's just a myth," Hamilton dismissed.

"I know, but its feeling more plausible by the second." A pause. "Actually they both are."

"Both what?"

"Our deaths."

"You're going to kill me because you're... pissed that you have to pee?"

"Not quite," Madison said.  "Look, what are my options right now?"

"Keep holding it and hope for the best, or... pee in a corner, I guess."

"Right. But that second option isn't really viable. Why?"

"Because we _will_ get rescued eventually, and when we do, someone will notice."

"Right. And what's more likely? That the pee was already here when we walked in, or that one of the politicians that was trapped inside got desperate? And no one will think it was you, because _you_ would write a twelve-page essay on why it was a justifiable course of action. That leaves me. So my options are _actually_ death by bladder tear or death by spontaneous combustion due to abject humiliation."

"At least you'd be a medical marvel," Hamilton offered. 

"I _am_ a medical marvel, and don't you forget it."

"So how does my death play into this?" Hamilton asked, reaching up to hit the call button again. It seemed to be an idle gesture as neither his face nor voice indicated that he was disconcerted by the topic.

"What happens when someone dies?"

"A number of things."

Madison sighed. " _Relevant_ to our conversation?"

"I guess they pee."

"Right. So I kill you--"

"Good luck with that, by the way," Hamilton cut in, and he wasn't wrong. Hamilton was a war vet and Madison once bruised his shoulder opening a particularly heavy door. "But do go on."

"I kill you and you pee. Or you don't. It doesn't matter. I pee on you, and when we get rescued, it _looks_ like you just peed when I killed you."

"Wow," Hamilton said.

"I know, it's brilliant."

"That _is_ a word," Hamilton granted. "But it's not _the_ word. So... instead of emerging as someone who peed in an elevator, you emerge as someone who murdered the Secretary of the Treasury?"

"Yes."

"And you don't see a problem with that?"

"I see _several_ problems with it, which is why I'm telling you instead of doing it." 

"You probably shouldn't tell _anyone_ that you think of things like that."

"Normally I wouldn't," Madison explained, "but right now I have the distinct feeling that if I stop talking I'll explode, though not in the sense that I'm sure the phrase applies to _your_ life."

"Well, we can talk about something else," Hamilton suggested.

"Fire away."

"Okay.... How about... Thomas Jefferson."

The way Madison's posture stiffened and his expression steeled all on their own already said more than he wanted to, but given the lighting and the fact that he was still standing, maybe Hamilton missed it. He wasn't exactly _surprised_ that Hamilton would try take advantage of Madison's unusually chatty state to get some information on his enemy--Madison wouldn't trust _himself_ if he were someone else, so he certainly didn't trust most people-- but that didn't make him any _happier_ about it, especially when Hamilton was pretending to be helpful.

"What about him?" Madison asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a funny story? You two seem pretty close."

"He's a good ally," Madison allowed.

"That's it?"

"What else is there?"

"I guess I thought you two were..."--hesitation there--"...friends."

"I'm sorry," Madison said. "I guess when I woke up this morning, I didn't notice that I was twelve years old." He didn't watch the blows land, figuring their impact would be increased if he were too aloof to look at Hamilton while he delivered them. Of course someone like Hamilton who valued his friendships so highly would be mildly offended by the implication that friendship as a general concept was juvenile, but the real sting was from Madison's confirmation that even when they were on the same side, he'd never considered Hamilton a friend.

Hamilton hit the call button again.

"Well," he said finally, rather than addressing either insult directly, "I'm sure _he_ thinks of _you_ as a friend."

"How very kind of him," Madison said flatly.

"I hate to state the obvious...."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Mr. Madison, you are cold."

"I'm actually quite warm at this precise moment," Madison said, wiping sweat from his forehead. "It's getting muggy in here."

"Probably because we keep talking," Hamilton said. "Do you think we'll run out of air?" He sounded curious rather than concerned.

Madison shifted a bit in place. "That would be a mercy at this point."

"No it wouldn't," Hamilton pointed out. "If you died now, you'd definitely pee yourself."

"Well, I doubt this thing is air-tight," Madison said, examining the ceiling as best he could in the light from Hamilton's phone. "That would be a pretty poor design choice given how long someone could potentially be trapped here. Speaking of, how long _have_ we been trapped here? By my estimation, it's been about fifteen years."

"Try fifteen minutes," Hamilton said. "Though at least now we know by what factor your brain is skewing your perception. Or your bladder, I guess. As it were."

"Do you think I could remove it?" Madison asked.

"Remove what?"

"My bladder. I have a pen."

"Uh." Hamilton did seem a little concerned now. "Does your pen have a knife in it?"

"You know, I considered it, but in the end I went for one that writes upside down has a really comfortable grip."

"Well that's good, because an impromptu surgery seems--"

Madison never did hear Hamilton's opinion on the hypothetical procedure because at that moment the lights flashed back on and the elevator roared back to life. 

Hamilton picked up his phone and turned off the light. " _Now_ it would be bad if this thing fell," he said, getting to his feet, and the next moment _he_ nearly fell as Madison shoved him. It wasn't in response to the comment, however, but rather an attempt to get closer to the door. "Hey!" Hamilton protested, catching himself against the wall. "We're not even stopped yet."

"Well, as soon as we are I'm phasing right through that door."

Close enough. As soon as the door was open enough to accommodate him sideways, Madison slipped out, dodging what looked like a maintenance man before running straight into Thomas Jefferson.

"James, are you--" Jefferson began.

"Later!" Madison called, pushing off of him and heading off again in a run. Later was also when he'd explain to Jefferson why he'd told Hamilton they were only allies, if Hamilton chose to tell him.


End file.
